Small Things
by asmallthing
Summary: Nicky is hurt and desperate to hide it from Jason. Set prior to the Bourne Identity when they both worked together at Treadstone.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note: I hope you enjoy my story and leave me a review if you do!**

_He'll know, _Nicky thought desperately as she stared, transfixed, at the message she'd just received on her phone.

_He'll know it the first time I move; there's no way I can hide it from him. _

She had thought that she'd be able to get away with it. He wasn't due back in for at least a month… but according to the message she'd just received he had completed his assignment early. He'd be in her office today _and i__t was t__oo soon._

Her mind raced; already envisioning every aspect of how the encounter would go. He'd see the limp that she'd try desperately to hide. He wouldn't miss the too-stiff movement of her right arm. He'd register the careful shallowness of her breathing and _he'd know_.

It wouldn't take him more than a few seconds.

* * *

When Jason Bourne walked into her office just a few hours later she prayed that she'd done enough. This would be a short interview. He'd need to start right away on the new op she was giving him. After his message, she'd allowed herself only a few seconds of panic then gotten busy; her mind clear and focused on creating enough of a distraction to make him miss her injuries.

* * *

Her first step had been to call her boss.

Conklin answered his phone tersely; he was already irritated at Parsons. She had been, in his opinion, somewhat overzealous about keeping Desh out of the field after the trouble he'd recently caused and although he knew that part of what made her such a good handler was that she never stopped trying to protect her assets to the best of her abilities, he had already let her know that his decision on this matter was final and he'd expected her to drop it. _This better not be about Desh again, _he growled to himself.

She took a deep breath. She could tell by his tone that he was already mad and she knew that she'd have to play her cards perfectly in order for her plan to work. "It's Parsons, sir. I've got Bourne coming in in a few minutes. He finished his assignment early for some reason and I'm scrambling to get his paperwork ready at the last minute, so I have to be quick- but I wanted to touch base with you one last time about Desh."

She took a deep breath before continuing, letting him hear her shuffling a few papers on her desk, wanting to make sure that the information she'd 'casually' dropped into the conversation had a chance to register with her boss.

"Sir, I'm still not comfortable with putting him back in the field so soon after his… incident." Nicky waited, giving _him_ a chance to make the suggestion; to take the bait she was dangling in front of him.

"Damn it, Parsons. You've made your position clear and _so have I." _The frustration he felt at having this conversation with her _again _was clear in his voice. "We don't have anyone else to send and this mission is time sensitive." She waited; not wanting to press her luck. P_lease, please, please take the bait_ she prayed.

This was a dangerous game she was playing and she knew it. When Conklin gave an order he expected his subordinates to follow it without question. However, she had never been afraid to stand up to him when it involved the best interests of her assets and past experience had made her well aware of exactly how far she could push him before he snapped. His tone coming over the phone was as clear of a warning as she'd ever get from him. He wouldn't tolerate anything more from her on this subject.

But that was okay; she'd done enough.

He knew as well as she did that Desh wasn't at a hundred percent. They just hadn't had any choice about sending him… until Bourne came back.

It would have been so much simpler to just suggest the swap herself but that would have been too much of a risk. Conklin would almost certainly have been suspicious. Nicky Parsons would never, under normal circumstances, advocate sending one of her assets back into the field this quickly.

Her debriefings were the longest and most detailed of all the Treadstone handlers. It was one of the things that made her so very good at her job. She took the necessary time to ask the right questions, was adept at pulling the answers she needed from even the most reluctant asset, and she meticulously recorded everything in her reports.

Following the debriefing, she always met with their doctors in person after each post-op physical, while most of the handlers were content to simply verify that they were approved for field duty. She even conducted her own basic psych evals; correctly recognizing that she knew her assets better than the agency shrinks.

She _cared_ about the mental and physical well-being of her assets more than the other handlers did. Nicky Parsons would never voluntarily skip or cut short that process. The suggestion that Bourne be returned to the field so quickly could not come from her without raising huge red flags to everyone in the program.

And truly, if it came down to a choice between Bourne and Desh, she knew that Desh was the logical choice, even given the reservations that she had about his mental health.

The two week wait Bourne was due really was a necessary part of the Treadstone process. When the assets were on an assignment; their work totally consumed them. They often neglected their most basic needs; food, sleep, and health. The gap between assignments could, in no way, be considered 'down time' for them.

The nutritionists & trainers that they met with ensured that they were on track with their weight and strength-training. The doctors adjusted their meds to handle any issues that the handlers noted in their reports, blood tests were taken to ensure that they were following their prescribed regimens, and psych evaluations were conducted to check for any developments of psychoses.

It could only be skipped in the most dire of circumstances and the current circumstances did not come close to meeting Nicky Parsons' definition of 'dire'.

Desh was rested, physically fit, and prepared to do the op. Bourne would not only be skipping his break, he'd be going in cold. The concerns about Desh's mental health came from Nicky; not the psychologists. They'd cleared Desh a week ago but Nicky disagreed. She hadn't fully explained her reasoning, simply stating in her official report that the asset appeared overly anxious and it was her recommendation that he receive an additional psych evaluation before he was sent out again.

She knew that it would almost certainly come back fine and Bourne hadn't had a single test, eval, or physical in close to two months. It just didn't make sense to send Bourne instead and she knew it.

Nicky had her own personal reasons to want Bourne back in the field and she could not risk having her motivations questioned by Conklin or anyone else in Treadstone. The decision needed to come from him so that there would be no additional scrutiny of the Nicky Parsons/Jason Bourne relationship.

So she waited; saying nothing.

"Send Bourne." he finally barked. It wasn't the choice that he'd have made own his own, but given Parsons' somewhat odd reluctance to put Desh back into the field he felt it would be the simplest course of action. It would _finally_ shut her up about Desh and Bourne could easily handle it. Problem solved.

_Play it cool, Nicky _she thought as she clenched her fist in silent victory. She knew she had to put up some kind of protest. This was a highly unusual deviation from procedure and under normal circumstances, she'd have strongly disagreed with it.

"He's hasn't even been debriefed yet." She argued. "SOP says a two week wait and a physical between ops, and besides I don't have enough time to make the changes that…" but Conklin cut her off in the middle of her rant; just as she knew he would, and the tiniest of smiles flitted across her face in reaction to his interruption.

"Don't quote the handbook to me, Nicky. I _wrote_ the damned thing." Conklin was close to losing his temper entirely at this point. Christ, the girl was getting what she wanted and _still arguing_ with him. He continued "You know as well as I do that standard operating procedures are merely… 'suggestions'. Bourne will do the op as long as the doc signs off on him physically. Desh can have another week to get reevaluated and that is my final decision."

She breathed a secret sigh of relief as she meekly ended the conversation with Conklin. Then she dry-swallowed three extra-strength Advil and got to work. This really was not going to be easy and it only had the slimmest chance of working anyway but as she thought grimly to herself _slim is better than none._

Desh had had the assignment for an entire week and everything was ready to go. It was a relatively simple op and Jason Bourne was nothing if not efficient. He'd need only a quick briefing and a few minutes to review the file. She knew that he wouldn't even take it with him when he left; he'd memorize what he needed and leave it on her desk for her to shred as he always did.

She knew what changes he'd want to make to the other asset's plans. They all had their own quirks and preferences and she was comfortably familiar enough with them that the adjustments were completely finalized just minutes before Jason walked through her door.

The upside of the limited time frame she was up against was that she had had no time to fret, her mind was totally occupied in ensuring that he had everything he needed to succeed on the mission and that she'd minimized any possible scenario that would put her injuries on display during their meeting.

She would stay seated the whole time she was in his view; that would give him no chance to notice her limp.

She would also need to keep her arm movements to a minimum. _It would be so much easier to hide if it had been my left arm_, she thought to herself but he would definitely notice if she suddenly began using her left in lieu of her dominant right arm so she had come up with a plan that meant she'd be doing very little with either. She'd already placed the file he'd need in front of his usual seat. She wouldn't need to stretch her arm out over the desk to hand it to him as she usually did. She'd have her hands ready at the keyboard, and everything could be accessed without needing to use the mouse.

_No twisting or turning, _she reminded herself, _it hurts too much to hide._

* * *

"Welcome back" she said, barely glancing up from her computer offering a brief smile when he entered her office and using what she hoped sounded like a distracted tone. She _was_ happy to see him. She always felt an uncomfortable sort of tightness in her chest when he left for an op and it never completely relaxed until he was back and they were physically in the same room together. But this time there was an undercurrent of fear mixed in that she hoped he couldn't sense.

"Please shut the door behind you. We've got a lot to do and not a lot of time to get it done." She made her request politely but with a carefully crafted tone of exasperation that she hoped would be enough to make him believe her unusual request was due to the time constraints they'd be working under. She was a fairly decent actress when she needed to be, but Bourne was not easily deceived; especially when it came to Nicky.

He _never_ shut the door behind him, despite being well-aware that their conversations were considered confidential and that she'd inevitably be forced to get up and walk past him to do it. She didn't know if he got some kind of a kick out of it; if it was just one of the countless little mind games he seemed to enjoy playing with her, but she knew to expect it and hoped that he'd write off this small idiosyncrasy as her simply being too busy to attend to it herself. There was no way she could walk across the room without giving her secret away.

* * *

Jason noted the change in routine, small as it was, and it bothered him.

He left doors open for a reason. It wasn't a game for him. He was simply being nice. He had long been aware of how downright terrifying the 'office agents' found him and he had, early-on, adopted a simple habit of leaving the door open when he was in their space with them. It calmed them to feel that they weren't trapped in a tiny little room with him. If they needed the door shut, he let them do it, and in his experience, they felt safer that way. It was a small thing that most of them never even noticed, but small things could make a big difference. Small things _mattered _to Jason Bourne, which was why Nicky's request of even this small change in routine was noted.

He shut the door as she'd asked and sat down in his usual chair, one that provided a clear line of sight on both the exit and the windows with Nicky in the center of his view. It was good to see Nicky. It was always good to see Nicky. But something was off about her. He knew it instinctively, though he couldn't yet pinpoint what it was or why he felt that way.

He realized that something in his expression had given away his suspicions when she gave him a puzzled little look and asked "What's wrong?".

It was an outright attempt to deflect attention away from herself and she pressed her advantage when he shot her a slightly confused look. "You finished an assignment early. That's unusual for you."

"The opportunity presented itself. There was no need to wait."

That was all he was going to give her right now. He'd provide the details when she asked the official questions and filled out the paperwork; following the usual routine of closing up an op. For now, he was still watching her and she was still aware that his suspicions were aroused.

So she did her best to look exasperated as she continued, "Well, you have the absolute _worst_ timing. Conklin was in my office when you coded in and he's assigned you another op." There was no outward sign of acknowledgement from him. He simply continued to watch her.

She continued speaking rapidly in the hopes of creating enough of a sense of urgency to deflect from his steady gaze on her.

"It was supposed to be Desh's assignment; you'll be leaving tomorrow at 0500; details are in the file; please look them over for any _additional_ last minute changes that you'll need me to make." she said nodding towards the file in front of him.

She narrowed her eyes as she looked across the desk at him and continued speaking, grumpily adding, "Your little 'opportunity' has been a big hassle for me. I've had to rewrite the whole op with practically no notice and I also managed to get my hand slapped by Conklin for arguing that you shouldn't be out in the field again so soon."

_Is that it? She's frazzled by the last minute changes and upset about getting hassled by Conklin? _Jason could accept that. He _would_ have accepted that; if she hadn't made another small change to their routine.

Nicky had left the file sitting on her desk for him to pick up instead of handing it to him. An admittedly small thing, yes, but it was not like her to be even slightly careless with classified files. She held the files in her hands or left them locked in a drawer until she passed them to him and immediately shredded them when he left her office. He realized that he subconsciously listened for the sound of the shredder every time he walked away from a briefing with her. It was a tidy little closing to their periodic meetings but the thought suddenly surfaced, unbidden, in his mind that he wouldn't be hearing that sound as he left today and it made him uneasy.

She handled last-minute changes all the time with grace and competency. Really, she thrived on it. And since her first day on the job she'd held her ground against Conklin, even openly defying him the few times she'd felt it was necessary without the slightest hesitancy. She _might_ be too busy to bother with the door but she'd _never_ be too busy to short-cut her personal standards for handling classified materials. Something was wrong and whatever it was, it was more than frustration with Conklin or the hassle of dealing with last-minute op changes could account for.

_Something's wrong with Nicky._

He knew it. He might not know exactly what it was, but it was there, and it was undeniable.

He couldn't ask her. Their conversation was almost certainly being monitored and he didn't dare risk setting off the alarm bells of anyone who may be watching or listening by evincing an undue familiarity with her. He'd keep watching and he'd figure it out. He was good at that; very good.

But he was also good at his job. So he picked up the file and scanned it, immediately deciding that the plan would work as it was without any changes. However, he wasn't ready to leave her just yet. He needed more time to figure it out.

"Why here?" he asked pointing at the site she'd carefully selected for him despite knowing exactly why she'd chosen it for him. It provided only an adequate vantage point but it clearly had the best exit strategy. It was exactly the place he'd have chosen himself.

He kept the paper slightly tilted toward himself and remained seated so that she'd be forced to lean forward over the desk to see what he was pointing at. And when she did, he was watching her, and he saw it. There was the tiniest hesitation in her movement and pain flickered in her eyes as she leaned, too carefully, forward.

_Nicky was hurt. _

_Nicky was hurt and Nicky was trying to hide it from him._

**_Author's Note:_**

**_This is my first Bourne fic and I hope I've done a decent job portraying the characters. Chapter 2 will be up in few days and we'll find out the extent of Nicky's injuries. She's hurt pretty badly and Jason's going to be pissed at her for intentionally trying to hide it from him. We'll get to learn more about their relationship once they're out of the office but we won't find out what happened to her until at least chapter 3. The details of Desh's "incident" will be held for a later chapter as well. _**

**_PLEASE REVIEW!_**


	2. Chapter 2

_He knows._

Nicky braced herself for the fallout that was to come but didn't dare raise her eyes to meet his just yet, keeping her gaze directed at what he was pointing to in the file he still held. They were both keenly aware of the pressing need to maintain their professional facade in front of the ever-present cameras in this office so she knew there was nothing he could say, or do, to address the situation while they remained in public but it was still never a good idea to push Jason Bourne too hard and she remained cautious.

"If you've got a better location in mind, I'll make the update now." she said, meekly answering his question about the sniper nest she'd picked out for him. "I thought that one offered the best exit."

She knew he wouldn't change it; knew that he both perfectly understood and agreed with, her reasons for selecting it. But she also knew why he'd asked her about it; recognizing that somewhere deep down inside him he'd realized that there was something wrong and that he'd either missed it or been unable to see it and his training had kicked in. She hadn't been acting normally and he needed to see more to determine the cause.

* * *

Nicky was correct in her assessment of Jason's motives. He had been testing her to try and figure out what was wrong. As soon as he'd felt that there was something wrong that he couldn't quite pinpoint, his mind started running through possibilities and his first thought was _Is she afraid of me__?_

No one, not even Nicky, was aware of the secret fear that lived inside his chest; always so terribly close to breaking out. _He was dangerous._ One day he'd do something to hurt her and the fragile trust that she had in him would be destroyed; and he'd lose her.

Yes, Nicky knew he was dangerous, she'd been at Treadstone pretty much from the beginning and was fully aware of what he was capable of doing. The problem, in his mind, was that she didn't see him as a danger to _herself._ She believed he was incapable of hurting her but he knew better. There had been times when he'd felt himself lose control; had let instinct and training take over and when he snapped back; he had been acutely aware that he would have killed anyone who got in his way and there would have been absolutely no stopping him.

His questioning of her plan had only been a test. He needed to see her react to him, to see if would she willingly come closer or if she would shy away when he pulled her toward him with a question. He needed to see if she was afraid of him.

But it was a test that had forced her to move. And when she had, it had simply hurt her too much. Although she'd done her absolute best to hide the pain, she knew that it hadn't been enough.

He knew she was hurt and he knew she had been trying to hide it from him. And he was mad.

* * *

She could feel the waves of cold rage flowing off of him and she stayed unusually quiet and still for the remainder of the debriefing. She asked the requisite questions and transcribed his terse responses into the computer without ever looking at him, not daring to ask her usual follow-ups or press him for details. As soon as she'd completed the list of questions, she carefully reminded him that he'd have to hurry to get his physical completed.

"I'll have to verify that the physical checks out but you're otherwise cleared to go so you can start your preparations as soon as you complete the physical." she told him.

They were done.

He'd have no reason to see her again until he returned from Singapore and that would give her the time she needed to heal and the time she needed to concoct a story that would, just maybe, be believable enough to prevent an all-out catastrophe.

He knew she was hurt, but he had no idea of the extent of her injuries and he'd been unable to ask the questions that she was as yet unprepared to answer.

Time and distance would work in her favor for once and she almost let herself breathe a sigh of relief.

* * *

But Jason Bourne was done playing his little role in what he now realized was an elaborately orchestrated plot designed to deceive him. He calmly crossed to the door and opened it to leave but the quiet words he spoke before he exited absolutely chilled her to the bone. "I'll need a little more time with this file. Book me into a room and you can come and pick it up at 22:00."

He left without either of them making eye contact again.

Nicky didn't move for several minutes after he left. _Shit. _She knew he didn't need that file. He wouldn't even look at it. It would sit, untouched, on the hotel desk until she got there to pick it up.

However, there was no question of her failing to show up. Her asset had made a legitimate request and the file was her responsibility. She would go to him and this time there would be no cameras, no reason to pretend, no way to hide.

He was already mad at her, knowing that she had tried to hide something important from him and he'd be even more upset when he saw her injuries; when she refused, point blank, to tell him what had happened to her.

* * *

Nicky limped down the hallway and paused at the hotel door, needing a second to calm her nerves and gather her thoughts before she saw him but Jason didn't allow her that. The door opened in front of her and she found herself looking at him with no idea how she should proceed.

"Jason," she began and then faltered before a whispered "... please" escaped her lips.

She didn't even know what she was asking him for. Pity? Compassion? Forgiveness? It didn't matter. She saw no hint of any of those things in his eyes.

He made no answer, simply moved aside for her to enter. So she walked in, heart pounding, and stopped when she felt his hand wrap around her left wrist. He closed the door, and turned her to face him putting her back against the door.

"Show me."

She didn't bother to resist. It wouldn't have done any good. She began unbuttoning her shirt.

* * *

He watched her struggle with the buttons, noting how much she was favoring her right arm so his eyes went first to her right shoulder as she gently peeled off her shirt. It was terribly bruised and swollen but there was no sign of blood, cuts, or scrapes. It had clearly been dislocated and reset. He'd seen that particular injury enough to recognize it right away. She had to be in pretty serious pain still. It couldn't have happened more than three or four days ago based on the bruising he was seeing.

Then he let his eyes drift down to her side and his eyes widened in shock. There were dark, deep bruises on the right side of her rib cage, extending from just below her bra line to just above her hip. It was a nasty injury and had to hurt like hell. He reached out and very gently felt to confirm his suspicions. "Four broken ribs. Dislocated shoulder. Let me see your leg."

He hadn't watched her walk far, just a few steps inside the room, but the limp had been evident.

She obediently complied and he saw the bruising on the outside of her leg just above her right knee. No wonder she was limping.

* * *

_A hand was wrapped tightly around her right forearm. She struggled to pull away, twisting her body away from her attacker. His left foot came up delivering a strong kick to her side, breaking her ribs and wrenching her arm, which he still held, from its socket. He let her go and she tumbled to the ground trying to back away from him and he brought his foot down again, this time on her leg. _

* * *

Jason's mind supplied the scene easily. He'd been in enough fights to be able to correctly piece together the most likely sequence of events. But knowing it was Nicky; that was hard.

As his eyes swept back up her body to look her in the face, he faltered. There were bruises, faint, but clearly there, on her inner thighs. They were small things, those bruises, nothing compared to the severity of injuries on the other parts of her body, but he felt sick when he saw them.

There was only one cause of that particular injury and a blind rage swept over him.

* * *

Nicky had watched him as he took in her injuries, seen his mind register and catalog each one. And she had recognized the look that came over his face when he'd finally seen. "It's not what you think." she said quietly but he didn't seem to hear her.

"Which one was it?" he asked finally tearing his gaze away from those horrible bruises to look at her, his face a terrifying mask of rage and his voice seething with anger.

She didn't understand. _Which one what?_

He saw her confusion and answered. "It had to be one of us. You wouldn't have had to hide it otherwise." His voice broke as he continued "God damn it, Nicky. Why didn't you tell me?"

The rage abandoned him as quickly as it had arrived and was replaced with pure pain. Oh, his poor Nicky. She was hurt and he loved her. He loved her more than anything in this world and it broke his heart to see her like this.

She stepped towards him with her arms out to embrace him, to comfort him. "It wasn't what you think." she told him again; hoping that he'd hear her this time. "But I _can't_ tell you more than that, Jason."

She pressed her body against his and felt the tension in his muscles as she pressed her face into his chest. She had been so scared of this but now that it was here and she was in his arms she felt all the fear drain out of her. "I'm okay, Jason. I'm okay." she murmured.

But that had been the wrong thing to say.

"You've lost your fucking mind if you think I believe that load of crap, Nicky" he exploded. "LOOK at you. LOOK at what he did to you!" He backed away from her and pulled her in front of the mirror. She hadn't looked at herself until now and she was honestly shocked at exactly how awful she looked. His eyes met hers in the mirror and she saw that the rage, the pain, had been replaced by a cold determination to _fix it._

"I'll kill them all if that's what it takes." His breathing was ragged and his fists clenched tightly. The threat in his statement was clear... _If you won't give me a name, they'll all die. _

* * *

She believed him. With ever fiber of her being, she believed that he'd hunt down and kill every single Treadstone asset in his thirst for vengeance. And he was telling her it'd be her fault if she didn't give him a name. But she still couldn't tell him the truth.

_She'd have to lie. _

_Again._

But she'd have to be better this time or innocent people would die. And it would be her fault.

**Author's note: Come on you guys... a review would be nice... **


	3. Chapter 3

Once Jason Bourne had an objective in mind; once he had targets to kill, he was nearly unstoppable.

That was Treadstone.

That was what they had done to him.

He had been programmed to kill anyone they needed him to and to do it efficiently and without question. He was, in short, a $30 million dollar weapon. And right now, he was a weapon, an armed and very dangerous weapon, _with no guidance system_.

For the first time since he'd joined Treadstone, he was providing his own objective. And his objective was to hunt down and destroy whoever had done this to Nicky.

He _knew_ that it had been a Treadstone asset. He didn't have the slightest doubt of it. Every bit of his training, every single instinct, every shred of evidence screamed that it had to be one of them. And the only way he could be sure of killing the right one was to kill them all.

The only thing between him and achieving his objective... was Nicky herself.

* * *

She was desperate. This could only end in destruction; his, hers, the other assets. If he wasn't killed himself, he'd destroy the program. And the agency would never let him walk away. They'd hunt him down one way or the other. He was too dangerous to be left on the loose.

If he failed and was captured alive, he'd be sent for retraining and Nicky knew that would destroy them both.

She knew nothing about what went on in the building located at 415 East 71st Street in New York. The assets never talked about what happened to them there and that section of their files was eerily blank. But she had seen the results of what they did there and it was enough to chill her very soul.

Twice she had witnessed an asset suffer a mental breakdown, enter that building, and return; changed.

Both times it had begun with headaches then progressed to mild paranoia and anxiety before culminating in a complete psychotic break. One had killed 27 civilians in a mass shooting at a wedding when he became convinced that they were foreign operatives infiltrating the US and the other had abducted and tortured two women over a three week period because he believed that they had been planning to assassinate the president.

Both times the agency had sent Nicky to bring them in and both times they had come with her willingly. She still felt the guilt from her part in what happened to them every single day. Even though it had been absolutely necessary both times, she knew that she had betrayed them. Her assets trusted her and she had promised to help them if they came with her.

They had to have known what it meant for them to go back into that building but when Nicky told them they would find help there they had believed her and gone willingly to what was essentially their deaths. They literally trusted her with their very lives.

* * *

They trusted her because Treadstone had _designed_ it that way. They had made Nicky Parsons the only _good_ thing in the lives of the assets.

They had no family.

They had no friends.

They had trainers who were absolutely brutal in their interactions with the assets; constantly pushing their bodies to their very limits and then demanding still more. Every interaction with them was pain.

They had doctors who stuck them with needles, hooked them up to machines for testing, and set broken bones or pulled bullets from their bodies. More pain.

They had psychiatrists who spoke to them only of their fears, their nightmares, their anxieties. Still more pain.

_But they also had Nicky._

Nicky was different. She remembered their birthdays and always slipped them a card; it was the only thing they got. She called them by their first names; it was the only time they ever heard them. She smiled at them; she was the only human being who was genuinely happy to see them when they returned home from a mission. She touched them. It might only be a light touch on the back as they left her office or brief tap on the arm to direct their attention to something but it was the only voluntary human contact they had in their lonely lives.

These were small things, but they all noticed them just the same and they all absolutely adored Nicky Parsons because of those small things.

She was sweet, she was pretty, she was young, and Treadstone had selected her for those reasons. They _wanted_ the assets to like her; if they developed a soft spot for someone then they had a weakness that could be used to control them.

And they _had_ used her. Both times she had brought them in for Treadstone; her poor damaged boys. And both times they had come back six months later completely changed. They had been wiped clean. Reset to factory settings. It was horrifying. And she would NOT let that happen to Jason. _No matter what._

* * *

"You need to move out of my way, Nicky." Jason Bourne had slipped into operation-mode and was ready to begin. At this point Nicky was just a small thing standing between him and his targets and that was a dangerous place to be, no matter who you were.

"Jason. _Look_ at me." She spoke firmly as she stood between him and the door still wearing only her bra and panties but determined to do whatever she had to to get him to abandon this terrible mission of destruction.

He dropped his gaze to her and she repeated her earlier words. "_It wasn't what you think_." adding, "It was an _accident."_ She spoke slowly and clearly and the truth of her words finally began to get through. "He didn't mean to hurt me. It was just... an instinctive reaction. It happened so fast." She frowned in her effort to find the right words to explain it. "He was _scared_. Jason. Please, try to understand."

Jason shook his head; unwilling to accept her plea. "He raped you. That was not an accident." The words were delivered in a flat tone but his face couldn't hide the disgust he felt. _Why was she protecting this man? _He knew that she loved her assets and would do just about anything to protect them but this... this was too much.

The bruises on her thighs were not the only indication that she'd been sexually assaulted. He hadn't cataloged the other injuries immediately, focusing on the most severe stuff first, but he could see the marks on her hips and shoulders, where hands had grabbed her and held her too roughly. She had bruises on her wrists indicating that she'd been pinned and had tried to fight. He knew exactly what he was seeing.

She responded immediately, shaking her head in denial of his words. "No. No, he didn't, Jason." She spoke slowly emphasizing every word. "I. was. not. raped." She stepped closer to him willing him to see the truth in her eyes. Jason was wrong and he had to believe her.

But he didn't. And it made him angry that that she was still lying to him so he spat out an accusation that he wasn't even close to believing. "Then you must have _fucked_ him because I can see the marks he made on your body, Nicky. I _know_ what..." He stopped short. He _did _know what those marks looked like on her body. God knows he'd left plenty of them on her himself.

Her words finally registered.

He hadn't been wrong and she hadn't been lying.

She _was_ trying to protect the Treadstone asset that had hurt her and she _couldn't_ give him a name.

"It was me."

The whispered words weren't a question. He finally understood why she had lied to him. She was protecting_ him. _

He didn't have any memory of the attack, _but it was him_.

* * *

**Alright, shamelessly begging for a review now... **

**Do you like it? Hate it? Did you know suspect that it was Jason?**


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: the majority of this chapter is a flashback to the night that Jason accidentally hurt Nicky but it opens with them still standing in the hotel room just after he realizes it was him. **

_No! No! No! _This was her worst fear; the thing she'd been so incredibly desperate to avoid. He knew it was him and he'd never be able to live with it. She'd lose him. Everything would be destroyed... and she'd tried _so hard._

* * *

**Four days ago**

Nicky entered her apartment after work, hung her keys on the wall, disarmed her alarm system, kicked off her shoes, and mentally thanked God it was Friday. She walked into her kitchen to grab a glass of wine and there was Jason; standing in her kitchen. _He shouldn't be here. _He was in the middle of an op; he was supposed to be in Berlin. _What the fuck is he doing here? _

"We have to run, Nicky." He was holding her bag; ready to go.

Something had gone wrong then. They had been discovered and Treadstone was after them. There was no other reason for them to panic and run. Running would offer their only chance of survival but still, running from Treadstone was essentially suicide and they both knew it.

"What happened?" She was ready. If Jason said they had to run; she'd run. But she was struggling to wrap her mind around it. They'd been _so_ _careful._ What had gone wrong?

He stepped away from her without answering to glance out the window and scanned the surrounding roof lines. He looked nervous, as if he was expecting to see a sniper targeting her window or agents surrounding the building but then he went to her table and pulled out two chairs, setting them across from each other. He sat down in one and gestured for her to sit down across from him. He was leaning slightly forward, forearms resting on his knees, fingers laced loosely together, eyes on the floor, waiting for her to sit down and listen.

That had been the first sign that something about the situation was wrong. If they needed to run; they had to _run. _He would not take the time to sit at her table and explain it to her. She looked at the chair, uncomprehendingly, then back to Jason.

"Shouldn't we be... going?" she sputtered. He didn't move.

_This doesn't make sense_ she thought to herself. But she sat down in the other chair and took his hands in hers and waited for him to explain.

"They're killing us, Nicky. What they're doing... What they make you give... it's too much." He looked at her, searching her face for agreement, but all he saw was confusion. "It'll never end... They'll never let us go."

His words were true but they'd _had_ this conversation already. They'd already talked about the consequences of leaving Treadstone and had decided that it was their option of last resort. They would run only if Treadstone found out about their relationship. They'd have no other choice if that happened.

They both knew how it would end if they were discovered. The Treadstone project was too important, the assets too valuable, to allow a relationship to develop between an asset and handler. If they were ever discovered, Nicky would be most likely be killed and Jason would simply be reprogrammed. She'd seen what they had done to those other two assets and knew what they were capable of achieving. He would have no memory of her; of them. And Treadstone would go on as ever before... without Nicky Parsons.

But they hadn't been blown. They had, potentially, _years_ ahead of them before they'd have to run. Nicky wasn't watched particularly closely and Jason was good enough to cover his tracks. They hadn't made any mistakes. _There was no reason to run._

_Something's wrong with him _she realized_. _In the back of her mind she was already beginning to run through a list of potential drug changes that might help him but for now, he needed her to reassure him; to talk him out of this lunacy.

She slipped out of her chair, sinking to her knees before him and wrapping her arms around him. She pressed close to him and tipped her head up to look him in the eyes. "I can't. I can't run with you, Jason." she whispered. Her words were quiet but she spoke firmly. _"You_ told me not to. _You_ told me we were safer staying with Treadstone unless they figured it out." she prayed he'd listen to her; that he'd remember.

"Oh God, Nicky. I know. I know. It's just... I don't know how much longer I can do this." He was near tears. She'd never seen him openly display this much emotion before; it was another sign that something was wrong with him.

His admission tore her heart to shreds. It wasn't fair what they had done to him; that they had hurt him for so long and in so many different ways. She wished with all her heart that she could take it all away for him. She rose up on her knees, lifted her hands to his face, and kissed him softly.

He responded to her simple kiss with an intensity that she was completely unprepared for. He scooped her up, one arm wrapped around her waist, supporting her weight as he rose from the chair. His other hand clamped tightly on the back of her neck and he returned her kiss with enough force that she tasted blood.

He carried her into her bedroom and tore off her clothes. Then he threw her onto the bed and climbed on top of her. There was no attempt at foreplay. He'd fucked her. Hard. He'd pinned her wrists firmly above her head when she reached out to caress his body. He didn't want softness, sweetness, or gentleness this time. This time he needed something different from her.

She understood and did not fight him. When he let go of her wrists to grab her hips, she'd had to brace her hands against the wall above her bed as hard as she could to prevent the impact of his body on hers from slamming her head against the wall. And when they finally both came her cry was one of both pleasure and pain.

After, he'd been uncharacteristically gentle with her. He'd kissed every mark he'd left on her body and apologized over and over.

"It's okay, Jason. I'm okay." she insisted. He'd been a little rough before but never to this degree. Still, she _was_ okay and she knew that he'd needed this; needed to let go of his fear, his pain, his frustration; and she was grateful that he'd come to her when he needed help.

But Jason was ashamed of what he had done. He had never let his control slip like that with her. Never. He had always held back; always been afraid that he'd hurt her. But she hadn't uttered a single protest, hadn't tried to stop him, and afterward she hadn't been upset or afraid. She had simply let him use her body and been happy to do it; knowing that he needed it; needed _her._

And he _was_ better. His mind was clearer and he no longer felt the pressing need to _run._ They discussed the logistics of how he'd slip back into the op in Berlin in the morning and then he'd fallen asleep beside her. He looked peaceful, in the bed beside her; calm and relaxed for the first time in months.

However, sleep did not find Nicky as easily. Her thoughts ran in panicked circles through her mind. He was showing the same worrisome symptoms that the other two had shown. She crept out of bed and went to her office; checking her notes on his current medications and reviewing the files of the other two assets that had broken, searching for anything, any small thing, that she might have missed. Maybe she had made a mistake with them. Maybe there was something she could have done to prevent their breakdowns; something that she could do now, for Jason, to prevent the breakdown she feared was coming.

There was nothing. She had known there wouldn't be, but she just couldn't help looking.

_I can help him_ she insisted to herself. There hadn't been anything she could do for the others but this was _Jason. _She loved him fiercely and these were just the beginning signs of a potential problem. It didn't guarantee that he'd do something like they had done. She'd watch him; protect him. She had to figure it out in time; the alternative was unthinkable. She signed off her computer and walked back to the bedroom.

* * *

She pushed the door open and felt Jason's left hand wrap tightly around her right forearm in the darkness. She gasped and tried to pull away, twisting her body away from Jason. Before she had a chance to cry out, his left foot came up delivering a strong kick to her side, breaking her ribs and wrenching her arm, which he still held, from its socket. She felt something give way inside her shoulder and the blow to her ribs knocked the breath out of her. Then Jason let her go and she tumbled to the ground trying to back away from him but he brought his foot down again, this time on her leg.

* * *

The entire attack lasted only two seconds. He'd been asleep when he'd heard a noise in the apartment and reacted instinctively. He was unused to sharing space with another person; if he heard someone in the night, it was more likely to be an assassin than a lover. He hadn't even awakened all the way, his body acting on pure impulse. He'd sprung up from the bed and crept silently against the wall to the door and waited, adrenaline coursing through his veins, for the intruder to enter.

His instinct was to disarm and then incapacitate his opponent. So he'd grabbed her arm and spun away from her, ducking low to avoid a potential weapon, and kicked upward, into her ribs. If she'd had a weapon in hand, she would have dropped it. Then he'd thrown her to the floor and aimed his second kick at her knee so that she wouldn't be able to get away.

But she'd landed in the light spilling though the door from the hallway and he'd recognized her as she tried desperately to back away from him. It had been too late to stop the blow he'd aimed at her knee, but he'd pulled it at the last second and instead of shattering her knee it had only glanced off of her leg.

He'd dropped down beside her to cradle her in his arms as soon as he'd realized what he'd done. His heart shattered into a million pieces.

* * *

**Sigh... no reviews yet...**

**The next chapter will explain why he doesn't remember the attack and will include lots of cleverness and resourcefulness from Nicky. I just love her. There's also going to be a quite a bit of angst from Jason as he deals with the guilt of what he did in the immediate aftermath of the attack. Poor Jason.**


	5. Chapter 5

**The flashback continues... Jason & Nicky are still in her apartment immediately following the attack.**

* * *

This.

This was the nightmare that had plagued him since he'd first fallen in love with her.

_He had known this would happen._ He'd _known_ that if he continued to see her, he'd end up hurting her. And now he had. He'd been too weak to tear himself away from her and _look at what he'd done to her._

His first reaction was to run. He had to get away from her. If he stayed, he'd just end up hurting her again.

But she needed his help right now. He had to assess her injuries and make sure that she would be okay, but then he would make himself leave. That was the only thing he could do. He'd never let himself hurt her again. _Never. _And that meant he had to go.

* * *

"Don't try to move." He spoke to her gently as he knelt beside her. "Let me help you." As he spoke, he reached out and eased her all the way down on the floor so he could see how badly he'd hurt her.

_I can't breathe. _Her lungs spasmed as they tried to recover from the blow to her ribs. _Everything hurts and I can't breathe_. Her eyes sought Jason, pleading for help as she gasped for air that wouldn't come.

The look of terror in her eyes just about undid him.

"It'll come." he murmured soothingly to her. "Just give it a minute. Try to relax." She struggled to get up; panicking, and he gently held her down and continued to speak softly, reassuring her that the air would come. And eventually, it did. She gasped again and a tiny bit of air finally reached her lungs. Another breath followed and then another. Jason stopped talking and let her breathe.

But with the air came pain. Every breath brought a new wave of agony crashing across her rib cage. _They have to be broken _she thought, _it hurts too much for it to be any thing else. _

She was right; her ribs were broken. Jason pressed gently along her side, his self-hatred growing with every small cry of pain that his gentle exploration wrung from her. He didn't stop, though. He was afraid that she might have internal injuries. He counted four broken ribs, but as far as he could tell, they were all simple fractures. There shouldn't be any bone fragments puncturing her organs.

He listened carefully to her breathing as he moved his exploration to her abdomen. He pressed gently, wanting to make sure that there was no swelling, nothing ruptured inside her but trying not to hurt her any more than he had to. Her breathing was more regular now and although it remained shallower than he liked to hear, there was no hint of a puncture or a collapsed lung. Her abdomen was also clear and he breathed a sigh of relief.

Next, he turned his attention to her shoulder. He knew he'd dislocated it. He had felt it go when it happened. But he was hoping it had slipped back into place on its own. His first glance disabused him of that naive notion and he hated himself even more as he realized that he'd have to hurt her still more to get it back in place.

That left her knee. The blow he'd intended to deliver would have shattered it completely; would have necessitated multiple surgeries and months of physical therapy, and still left her with a permanent limp. But he had managed to avert the worst of it with that last second realization of who she was and he saw only minimal damage to her leg. The blow had landed above the joint and only bruised it. It would hurt, but it would heal on its own.

"Where's your medical kit?" he asked, forcing himself to stay focused on the task at hand so he wouldn't have to talk to her yet. He wanted try to apologize to her; try to explain, try to make her understand. But he knew it wouldn't do any good. She'd already forgiven him for the attack, knowing it was an accident. And she would _never_ forgive him for leaving her.

* * *

"Don't do this, Jason. You can't leave me. You _can't."_ Her first words to Jason were carefully chosen. She _knew_ how awful he felt about what he'd done and her only chance of convincing him to stay lay in persuading him that his leaving would hurt _worse_ than the physical pain he'd accidentally caused her. There was nothing she could say that would take away the guilt and self-loathing she could see raging inside him but she knew he'd do almost anything to prevent her from being hurt even more.

"I couldn't take it if you left." she said softly.

"I could have _killed_ you." He wasn't going to lie to her, she deserved the truth, so he didn't bother to deny her accusation. But he had made up his mind to leave and he wasn't going to allow her to convince him to stay. "I'm sorry, Nicky. I should have done it a long time ago. I knew something like this would happen. I didn't have the strength to leave... but... I _won't_ let it happen again." He didn't give her a chance to reply.

"Where is your medical kit?" he asked her for the second time, following it up with "What do you have for pain killers?" He was already on his way to her closet, having decided that was the most likely place to find it.

"I don't want anything, Jason." She was hurt but she knew that she needed to remain clear-headed if she had any chance at all of keeping him.

He stopped, turned to her, and said "You'll need it. I'm going to have to put your shoulder back in place, and I'm not doing that without pain killers. Real ones." He continued his search of the top shelf in her closet, finding the agency-issued kit that she had stashed there.

"I'm NOT taking anything Jason. I'll be fine. Besides, you said that it didn't hurt."

"I lied." he responded curtly. He didn't see any point in hiding it; she'd find out what it felt like soon enough.

He remembered telling her that particular lie. She'd been debriefing him after an op when he'd mentioned that he'd dislocated his shoulder and fixed it in the field. He'd seen the look of pity in her eyes; she hated it when he got hurt. So when she'd asked how bad it had been, he glossed over it; told her that it hadn't hurt at all.

"It fucking hurts, alright?" He was upset and his voice could not hide it. "I'm NOT doing it without pain killers."

He brought the med kit over to where she still lay on the floor and pulled out a small glass bottle of morphine and a syringe. He inserted the needle and pulled back the plunger, drawing a dose that was far larger than necessary.

"_Don't._" She was watching him and she knew what he was trying to do. He was going to knock her completely out, fix her shoulder, and walk out of her life, forever.

"Jason, I at least want to be able to say goodbye." she pleaded, and he paused, still holding the syringe in the bottle, considering.

"No amount of morphine is going to make that hurt any less." she said.

Her words crushed him, and he dropped his hands into his lap, still holding the morphine and looked away. She was right; he owed her the chance to say goodbye. None of this was her fault and it wouldn't be fair to her for him to just leave. It would be easier for him that way, but he could do what he had to do to keep her safe even if it broke her heart.

Nicky watched him carefully and took her chance, _her only chance_, when he looked away. She slipped her left hand into the med kit and grabbed the small black cylinder clipped to the lid of the kit. She popped off the tip with her thumb and jabbed it firmly into his thigh. He looked at her in shock and had just enough time to ask "What did you do?" before the world went dark and he collapsed.

"_I saved us_." was the answer that he didn't hear.

* * *

Thank God she had that stuff and that he obviously didn't know what it was. Hell, she didn't know what it was called; it was something that Treadstone had patented that was specifically designed to knock out their assets quickly if something went wrong. All the handlers had been given a dose but she never thought she'd need it. It was just a small thing; that little black cylinder, but her heart leaped when she saw it in the case. This small thing could save them. _If she did everything right, this could save them._

She pulled herself, painfully, up off the floor and went to her little hiding spot, a fake electrical outlet. She pulled a phone out, one that Treadstone didn't know she had, and made a call. "I need your help." she said into the phone not bothering to identify herself. "Bring what I got for you last week." She spoke quickly into the phone and then hung up without waiting for an answer. She had only spoken a dozen words, but that was all she needed.

Help was on the way, and if her plan worked out, she'd be able to keep Jason. If something went wrong... well, it couldn't get much worse than it already was.

* * *

Desh let himself into her apartment silently and his eyes took in the scene. Nicky was sitting on the floor, covered in bruises, with Jason Bourne laying unconscious at her side. She was barely dressed and he could see the marks on her body. "_Holy shit._" he whispered as he pulled out his gun and aimed it at Jason.

She looked up upon hearing his words and realized that she'd have to explain what happened. He had clearly gotten the wrong idea. "It was an accident. He didn't mean to hurt me... I scared him and he reacted instinctively." The gun aimed at Jason didn't waver.

"I drugged him. He's out for the next 6 hours at least." She held up the small black cylinder she'd used on Jason. They both knew how well the drug worked but clearly Desh wasn't willing to trust it entirely and he kept his gun trained on the other asset while he let his eyes move over Nicky. His gaze lingered on her bruised thighs and he said pointedly, "That an accident too?"

"Yes. It was." she said simply. "We... Jason and I..." she trailed off unsure of how to explain what she and Jason had together. "We love each other." she finished. It was the truth but with that admission, she was giving this man the power to utterly destroy them. "We got a little carried away, but that's not why I called you."

"What do you need?" Desh asked her. He'd do anything to help Nicky; he loved her in his own way and she had quite literally saved his life the week before.

She breathed a sigh of relief. "I need him to forget. I need him to forget that he came to my apartment. I need him to forget that he hurt me. I need him to forget... that he's decided to leave me." With every sentence, her voice grew softer; sadder. She looked at Desh and he saw how much she was struggling to hold herself together and he made his decision.

He nodded and simply answered "Okay." Then he pulled out the drug that Nicky had gotten for him; the drug that she had once used to save his life, and injected it into the unconscious Bourne. The medicine that he'd injected Jason with was another useful little Treadstone invention. It essentially erased the memories of the last eight to ten hours from the mind.

It was exactly what she needed.

He wouldn't leave her if he couldn't remember what happened.

She thanked God that Desh had it, no longer caring about what she had had to do to get it for him.

"Where do I take him?" He asked her after finishing the injection. She filled him in on the Berlin op he was supposed to be on and where Jason was staying and he bent to pick up Jason to carry him out of her apartment but he stopped. There was something he needed to do first.

"Can you stand?"

Instead of answering him, she tried to get up. She managed to make it most of the way up but faltered when she tried to put weight on her right leg. She would have fallen if Desh hadn't caught her. He helped her to one of her dining room chairs and made her sit facing backwards on it.

"Wrap your left arm around the back of the chair and hold tight." He knelt in front of her and made sure that he had her full attention. "This is going to hurt." She nodded; Jason had told her that much. "I'm sorry." Desh almost whispered those words to her and she looked at him in confusion.

"It's not your fault. You shouldn't be sorry." She meant it. He didn't have to be here, helping her, helping Jason.

"I am, though. I am sorry. I'm sorry for last week. I'm sorry that you're hurt. I'm sorry that you and Jason can't..." He took a deep breath. "I'm sorry for all of us. But most of all I'm sorry that I have to be the one to do this. I don't want to hurt you, Nicky. I don't."

She listened to his heartfelt apology and felt more tears slide down her cheeks. He was right. She felt sorry for all of them too and she resolved to remain completely silent while he put her shoulder back in place. She wouldn't made a sound no matter how much it hurt because that would just make him feel even worse and he didn't deserve that.

She kept her resolve and managed to get through it with only a few sharp gasps, but he felt her pain just the same and he hated himself for causing it.

Then he left with Jason and she was alone in her apartment.

* * *

**Notes:**

**I promise that I'll fill you in on what happened with Desh in the next chapter. Also coming up is the story about why Jason doesn't remember her in the movies ... PLEASE REVIEW and let me know what you think. **


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: This chapter is another flashback. It takes place exactly one week prior to the attack. If you've been wondering what Desh did you're about to find out...**

**One week ago:**

* * *

"Desh... What, what are you doing here?" Her heart was pounding, her hands shaking; he shouldn't be here. This was wrong. _This was dangerous_.

"I'm sorry. Don't... you don't have to be afraid. I need your help. I'm not... I wouldn't... hurt you." Desh belatedly realized that he'd terrified her by showing up inside her apartment unannounced before dawn on a Friday morning and he stumbled over his words, trying to make her realize that she didn't need to be afraid of him.

He spoke quickly and advanced toward her wanting to make her understand but he didn't give her panicked mind a chance to register his words and she backed away from him in fear. So he stopped, ran his hands over his face and said, again, "I need your help." Then he added, "Please?". The 'please' caught her attention. She couldn't remember ever hearing one of her assets ask nicely for something. Not once.

"You could have just knocked." She said shakily, forcing herself to relax and praying that she could trust him. However, she maintained the distance she had put between them, not that it would really help if he did want to hurt her.

"I never thought about that." he replied honestly. "I..." he lifted his hands and gave a little shrug and she understood; that was simply not they way they did things.

"What's wrong?" Now that her heart rate was beginning to calm down she realized that there had to be something seriously wrong for him to show up like this. It was way off protocol.

"I screwed up." He looked at her carefully, as if to reassure himself that he could trust her, and apparently decided that he could; that or he realized that he had no one else to turn to.

"I wanted out." Those three short words he uttered provided very little information but she immediately grasped the implication. What he _wanted,_ wasn't _possible. _

_What did you do? _She didn't voice the question out loud, but he answered it just the same.

"I talked to an FBI agent." He heard her sharp intake of breath and looked away from her. "About Treadstone."

_Jesus, is he suicidal? _Any other reason for doing what he had just confessed to doing was flat-out insane. _He's lost his god dammed mind or else he's got a death wish. _

_"_He said that he could protect me..." Desh trailed off still unwilling to make eye contact; afraid of what he'd see in her eyes.

"From _Treadstone?_ You KNOW he can't. They'll send one of the other assets after you. _They'll send Bourne_. How the FUCK do you think the FBI is supposed to protect you from _Jason Bourne_?" When she finished speaking he reluctantly met her eyes and he saw it, what he had been afraid of seeing was painfully evident in her eyes, and he looked away again. _She thought she was talking to a dead man._

She probably was. But if there was the slimmest chance that she could find him a way out, she'd do her best to find it. If not, there was something that she needed him to understand. She closed the distance between them and placed her right hand on his left shoulder and gently used her left hand to turn his face back to hers. "You might have to run." The words she spoke were essentially treason but they had to be said. If he had gone too far... there would be nothing for her to offer him other than a chance to run and she wanted him to know that she would offer him that chance rather than let Treadstone destroy him. He nodded his thanks.

"Have a seat." She would need coffee for this conversation. She gestured towards her dining room table as she walked past it into the kitchen to make them a pot. She heard him sit down as she busied herself in the kitchen. A few minutes later, she placed a cup in front of him as she walked past him to her seat with a cup for herself.

She didn't have a list of questions prepared for him, but she'd decided that it would be easiest for both of them if she treated this like a standard debrief. She wouldn't ask him to explain his reasons. It didn't matter why he'd done it. She simply needed to hear the details of exactly what he had done so that she'd be able to make an informed decision. She took a sip of coffee and he reached out and placed his hand on her arm as she put down her cup, surprising her.

"I don't know what I was thinking... I guess I just wanted it all to be over. All of it." Truthfully, he'd reached a breaking point and acted out of desperation. He wished he'd never joined the program, never met Ward Abbott, never been to that building on 71st Street. He wished he'd had a chance at a normal life. But he'd made his decision. He'd listened to the lies they told and he'd entered that building and come out; a murderer. He knew that the FBI couldn't change any of that, but he thought that they could maybe, just maybe, destroy the program, destroy the people who'd ruined his life. They could shine a light on the illegal activities that Treadstone was involved in and expose them to the public. He'd seen a chance to destroy them and he'd taken it.

But his instinct for self-preservation had kicked in at the last second and he'd panicked. He'd panicked and run to Nicky. And although he didn't know it, it was exactly what Treadstone had designed him to do.

"I only made contact with him for the first time this morning, but I told him... everything." Nicky listened to his confession, because that's what this was; he was confessing to a horrible mistake. His grip on her arm tightened and she felt the fear begin to creep back in. She pushed it down, trying to focus on what he was telling her. "If I kill him... I don't think... I've never killed anyone that I wasn't ordered to kill... It would be my fault. I reached out to him for _help _and I can't kill him now."

She had never heard him speak like this and it surprised her. He had killed so many times. He'd answered every question she asked him about those deaths without hesitation, evincing no sign of remorse or guilt. But now, he was tumbling over his words, trying to make her understand that he _couldn't kill_ _this man_. He needed her to know that that option was not on the table.

She nodded, letting him know that she understood. She would not ask him to do that. When he saw her acceptance of his refusal to kill the man, he continued hesitantly

_"_But... if he _forgot..."_

Understanding of what he wanted hit her and what followed was the almost instantaneous realization that she couldn't help him. She spoke softly to him, her heart aching for him. "Oh Desh, I don't have access to that kind of stuff. I'd have to request it 'officially' and there's no reason for me to do that that wouldn't bring them down on you."

She honestly couldn't get him the drugs he needed without raising suspicions. She saw the despair that her words brought to him etched clearly on his face and it suddenly reminded her of Jason. He had worn an identical expression when he'd first realized that he_ wanted_ out and that_ there was no way_ out. She realized that if this was Jason, who had come to her for help, she'd move heaven and earth to get him what he needed. If this was Jason, she'd invent a reason for needing the drug; she'd put her life on the line and _lie to them_.

At the mere thought of Jason being in trouble like this, her mind began working on concocting a reason that could possibly work. If Jason needed this, she would tell them...

Across the table, Desh stood up suddenly, knocking his chair onto the floor and strode quickly to the door. He believed that she couldn't help him, that he had to run. She flew across the room to him and grabbed him by the shoulders just as he reached the door.

"No. Don't run..." She wanted to tell him she had been too hasty in her initial assessment, that she had the beginning of an idea. There might be a way to help him and she needed him to _wait._

But he reacted violently to her touch. He slammed her against the wall and screamed at her, his face inches away from hers. "NO. You were right. I HAVE to run. I'm NOT going back to let them destroy me. Don't ask me to do that, Nicky. And _don't try to stop me._"

"Please." she gasped _Please __don't hurt_ _me _was the thought ran through her mind but what she said to him, out loud was, _"_Please, let me help you."

Again, it was that one small word that made the difference. '_Please' _it was nonthreatening and it was _not Treadstone._ Treadstone never asked 'please'.

With that one small word she reminded him that he was talking to Nicky, not to Treadstone, and he let her go, muttering an apology. She slid down the wall, limp with relief. She gathered herself up as quickly as she could, wiped the tears from her face, and went back to the table. He followed.

"I need you to answer my questions. Fully, and honestly." She had slipped into her role of handler. It was comfortable to her, it allowed her to focus on the problem, and she needed him to follow her lead. She looked at him to confirm that he understood.

"Where is the location of the FBI agent now?"

"At his apartment" and he gave her an address that was about 10 minutes away, walking.

"What's his current status?"

He pulled out a familiar black cylinder from his breast pocket and silently laid it on the table. "I administered one full dose at 0600. He weighs 180-190 pounds."

That told her all that she needed to know. He would remain completely incapacitated for next 8 hours. She desperately wanted to ask him how he had gotten this drug, _how he even_ _knew about it_. As far as she understood, the assets were not aware of the existence of the handy little knock-out drug they'd passed out to the handlers a few months prior. But she decided to remain focused on the issue at hand and moved on to her next question.

"Who has he talked to?"

"No one." His answer was confident but she needed to make sure.

"Boss? Partner? Friend? Mother? Lover? You're _sure_?"

"Yes. I followed him for a few days, and made contact with him today for the first time. He did not contact anyone while I was with him."

"You check for bugs? Wires?"

"Yes. He was clean."

"What would you have been doing today... if you hadn't met with him; hadn't come here?" This was an important question. If he had skipped a meeting with anyone from Treadstone, she'd have to create a reason for that.

"The only thing I have today is my meeting with you, at 10:00." They did have a meeting scheduled. They had a new op for him, in Singapore, and she'd be giving him the assignment later today, but his early morning was clear.

"Where were you last night?"

"I was staked out across the street from his apartment. Watching. No one saw me."

She was out of questions and every answer he'd given her had upped the odds of her plan's success a tiny bit. She leaned back in her chair and gave him a thin smile. "This might work." She quickly outlined her plan for him, and when she was finished he reached across the table and took both of her hands in his.

"You saved me, Nicky." There were tears streaming down his face.

* * *

He would come to the meeting with her at the scheduled time and he would act agitated. She'd ask some questions and he'd 'admit' to her that he'd been with a prostitute, gotten drunk, and woken up to find her looking through his bag. He'd admit that she'd seen his passports, his money, and photos of his previous, high-profile, targets. He would tell Nicky that he hadn't killed her because her friends had seen him with her last night and knew what he looked like so he'd left her tied up in her apartment. He'd ask her for help cleaning it up.

She'd call Conklin, explain what Desh had told her, and ask for the drug that would wipe out the prostitute's memory of her encounter with him. Conklin would okay it. She knew he would. It was so much _cleaner_ than killing her, disposing of the body, and trying to track down her friends to pay them off or scare them from going to the police with his description.

He'd be angry and Desh would pay for his mistakes. Drinking and being careless with classified material were not things that Treadstone took lightly. He'd be disciplined and it would be harsh, but it wouldn't lead to a trip to 71st street. He'd have a few more scars to add to his collection, both physical and mental, but he'd be alive and he'd still be himself when they finished with him.

She'd take care of it. She'd go to the agent's apartment, administer the drug and clean up the site; wipe it for fingerprints, destroy any notes or recordings he might have made, and note any cameras on her way. She'd have them erased if needed and it would all be covered up by pretending that the apartment belonged to the prostitute she'd invented.

Cleaning up her assets' messes was her job. This would be simple enough that they wouldn't even ask her if she needed help getting it done. She was fairly confident of that, but if they decided to send someone else, their deception would be discovered. If that happened, there would be an investigation and they'd discover that he'd gone to her apartment this morning and she'd be unable to deny her part in the cover-up.

She was taking a huge risk. She shuddered to think about the consequences of getting caught. She didn't fully understand why she was doing this for Desh, but that small voice inside her head that whispered "_What if it were Jason..._" wouldn't be silenced any other way.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

**Well, this explains Desh's "issue" that I alluded to earlier in the story and also why he had the drug that would temporarily wipe Jason's memory. I had a hard time writing this chapter. It's weird to write a whole chapter without Jason but he'll be back in the next one. _Serious_ feels to come y'all. You know he's going to forget her entirely before we pick up with where Identity begins... this will explain why.**


	7. Chapter 7

**We're done with the flashbacks. It's the p****resent Day- Jason & Nicky are in the hotel room immediately following his realization that he was the one who hurt her.**

* * *

"It was me."

The whispered words weren't a question. He finally understood why she had lied to him. She was protecting_ him._

He didn't have any memory of the attack, _but it was him_.

* * *

Jason's mind reeled. _How could he have done this to Nicky? Why couldn't he remember? What had she done to make him forget?_

"What did you do?" He asked her, unknowingly echoing his last words before he'd passed out from the drug she'd administered to him four days ago. She replied with the same answer she had given him before, only this time he heard her. "I saved us." she whispered. Then she sank to the floor in front of him and sobbed. "I _tried._ I tried _so hard_ to save us."

Her answer made absolutely no sense to him but he knew that he wasn't likely to be able to get anything useful out of her in her current state so he gingerly picked her up and sat her down on the edge of the bed, trying to avoid hurting her any further. He grabbed the hotel-issued robe and wrapped it around her body which was still wracked with sobs. Then he climbed up behind her and held her in his arms while she cried hysterically. He rocked her slightly back and forth and murmured softly to her that every thing was okay, that everything would be okay, and that he loved her until she finally quieted down.

Then he slipped off the bed, knelt in front of her, and asked her to explain everything.

"Jason, you showed up at my apartment last Friday and asked me to run with you."

He softly exhaled and said "But, they don't know about us. Why would we run? That's... crazy."

She nodded. It _had_ been crazy. "You were... upset. I've never see you like that before. You were near tears... and I didn't know how to help you."

Jason shook his head. He believed her but it was eerie to realize that he had absolutely no memory of what she was describing. "I... did this?" He reached out and fingered the light bruises that were still evident on her wrists and she knew what he was asking. She was not looking forward to explaining that but he evidently wanted to cut to the chase.

"We had sex. You were a little..." she trailed off unable to find the right word but Jason cut in.

"I lost control." He looked at her and saw the confirmation of his words in her expression although she said nothing. "I'm sorry, Nicky. I'm so sorry. I should never have let that happen."

She was unwilling to let him blame himself for what happened. "You don't need to apologize for that, Jason. You don't need to apologize for _anything._ It wasn't your fault." She meant what she said. She knew that he'd never meant to hurt her and she placed the blame for what had happened fully on Treadstone.

But Jason, of course, blamed himself and he pressed her for the rest of the story. "That happened later that same night?" he asked, resting his hand on her injured knee.

She nodded. "You fell asleep, but I couldn't, so I got up and did some work in my office. You heard movement in the apartment and... reacted when I came back in the bedroom." She hadn't made eye contact with him while she spoke but when she was finished, she looked at him and then reiterated "_It wasn't your fault_."

He stood up, pulling away from her. That awful vision of the attack that had played in his head... that was real. He'd been able to create the scene so vividly in his mind because, at least on some level, he remembered doing it and the realization of what he'd done made him sick. Nicky could tell him that it wasn't his fault but he knew better. What was worse, was that he knew that he couldn't prevent it from happening again. If he was with her, he'd inevitably end up hurting her again and he would not let that happen. _Never again_.

"I could have killed you." The pain in his voice was almost unbearable for Nicky. She had already watched him beat himself up over this once and it was agonizing to have to watch him experience the realization of what he'd done for a second time. She watched him carefully and saw the exact moment that he made the decision to leave her.

Again.

"Jason, you _can't._ _You can't leave me_." He didn't ask her how she knew what he was thinking and he didn't bother to deny it.

"I should have done it a long time ago." She recognized this at the exact same conversation they'd had four days ago. She hadn't been able to convince him to stay then and had resorted to drugging him. She wouldn't get away with that again. _He was going to leave her._

"_No_." Her voice was flat; emotionless. "If you leave me... at Treadstone... without you... I will kill myself." She meant what she said. "You're the only _good _thing in my life, Jason. All I have is you."

He looked carefully at her. He understood that she thought she meant what she said but he knew deep-down that she was too much of a fighter to go through with it. She wasn't capable of suicide. She just wasn't. But he was careful not to let his face betray so much as a hint of his thoughts. Instead he asked her, "Is that why you... _What did you do?..._ Drug me?"

She nodded. "Yes. You got my med kit and tried to give me an injection of morphine before you reset my shoulder but you didn't realize what else I had in there. It's a Treadstone specialty; designed to instantaneously knock out an asset. It's built like an epi-pen, all I had to do was jab you with it. I only got away with it because you didn't know I had it and you underestimated me." She could still hardly believe that she'd been able to pull it off.

"I didn't underestimate you. I _trusted_ you." He didn't continue the thought out loud, but it hung in the air between them all the same. _I trusted you... too much._

Nicky didn't argue with him. She knew that what she'd done had been a betrayal of his trust but it was _nothing_ compared to the betrayal he had been about to commit against her.

"Did it wipe my memory too?" He was struggling to understand why he didn't remember anything; how he'd woken up back in Berlin with absolutely no memory of going to her apartment in Paris and hurting her, or of returning to Berlin.

"No... I called someone..." she was hesitant to bring up Desh's involvement. The assets knew each other but there was no love lost between them. They did not trust each other. They did not work with each other. There was an odd distance between them, most likely fostered, intentionally, by Treadstone. "I don't have easy access to the stuff that I needed to wipe your memory but I knew someone who had it and I knew I could trust him."

Jason sensed her evasiveness about who she had turned to for help and recognized that if she didn't want him to know who it was, he probably wouldn't have approved of her choice. He needed to know who had helped, what he had done, and if he could be trusted not to betray her. "Who? Who did you call?" he demanded.

She exhaled in frustration but answered him. "Desh."

"Fuck, Nicky." He was pissed. "That was _stupid._ What does he know? What does he know about _us? _He's TREADSTONE, for fuck's sake." This was bad. Desh's knowledge of their relationship was a huge liability. It gave him _power_ over them and Jason knew that an asset, like Desh, would not hesitate to use an advantage like that to benefit himself. It was how they were trained to operate.

"Jason, I'm _far_ from stupid. I did what I had to do to protect us from _you._" Nicky was raging. How _dare_ he question the decisions she had made; the decisions that HE had forced her to make. "I trust him. I have good reasons for trusting him. You don't know him."

"I know he's Treadstone. I know he's dangerous." That was all Jason needed to know.

"You don't know anything about him. He's" but Jason cut her off before she could explain.

"And you think you do? You think you know everything about him?" He couldn't believe he was having this conversation with her. She had no idea how dangerous Desh could be.

Nicky was loosing patience with him for questioning her. "YES." She insisted. "Yes I _know_ him. I know what he _eats._ I know who he _fucks._ I know when he _sleeps._ I know what he fucking _dreams_ about. I KNOW him."

Jason shook his head, that wasn't what he meant. There was a dark side to the agents that he was confident that Desh had kept hidden from her. She knew what Desh wanted her to know about him... and that was ALL she knew.

"He's a human being, just like you are. He's not just an asset. He has hopes and dreams beyond Treadstone just like we do. He's trapped, like us, Jason. He wouldn't betray me. I know he wouldn't. " She continued her rant but dropped her voice to barely above a whisper. "Besides, I have enough on him to ensure that he couldn't betray us even if he wanted to."

She sat back and looked at Jason, confident that he had registered the significance of her last statement. Desh _couldn't _go to Treadstone without risking his own life and he wouldn't do that, even Jason knew that. There was silence when she stopped speaking.

Jason was thinking. He couldn't bring himself to trust Desh. Nicky might be right, that Desh couldn't to turn them over to Treadstone, but he couldn't leave Nicky without making sure that the danger that Desh represented to her was neutralized. He wasn't going to leave Desh in a position of power over her without him there to protect her.

"Jason?" her voice cut through his thoughts and he looked up at her and forced himself to smile although it broke his heart to do it.

It was his turn to lie to her.

* * *

"I'm sorry, Nicky, for doubting you. I know you did what you thought you had to do, but... this is hard for me. I don't want to hurt you again."

Nicky had always known that Jason was dangerous but she simply didn't care. She loved him and she knew without a doubt that it wasn't his fault that he had hurt her. She would be more careful, make sure not to surprise him again and they would be okay.

"Just don't leave me." She begged. "That would kill me, Jason."

He nodded. "I can't. I know I should. I know that's the only way to guarantee that I won't hurt you again but... _I can't." _He hoped she believed his lie.

She did. It helped that she wanted so desperately to hear the words that he was finally saying. He wrapped her in his arms and kissed her gently. They didn't have much time. She'd need to get back to her office with the file and he had to prepare for his trip to Singapore.

She was practically giddy with relief as she got dressed and gathered up the file to take back with her. They embraced one last time at the door before leaving the room. "I'll be back in a few weeks." he reassured her and then added, as he opened the door, "_Stay away from Desh._" She rolled her eyes and slightly shook her head. He didn't need to be worried about Desh.

* * *

**AN: I hope you're enjoying it! Leave a review if you are! Two more chapters to go. They're mostly written so they'll be up soon.**


	8. Chapter 8

Nicky walked, still limping slightly, into her office Monday morning and hung her coat on the back of her door. She logged on to her computer and settled down to check on her agents and restraining her innate desire to check on Jason first as always, she began in chronological order with the last one she'd had an update from being the first she checked on. She currently had three agents in the field and two that were on break.

Everything was in order with the first two in the field, both had used their individual access codes to enter and exit the safe houses she'd prepared for them and when she called them, they each verified their status with the appropriate code indicating that they were not under duress. These calls were brief, no real information needed to be exchanged; she was simply checking on them.

But she frowned when she checked on Jason and realized that the safe house he was supposed to be using in Singapore hadn't been accessed. It was possible that he'd chosen somewhere else to stay for a variety of reasons, but if that was the case, the proper procedure required him to notify his handler, and he hadn't. Time slowed down for Nicky as she watched herself, as if from outside her body, pick up the phone she used to contact Jason and hit send. She heard it ring, distantly and when he didn't answer; she knew what it meant.

She numbly entered the information in the required fields on her computer.

Time entered: N/A

Time exited: N/A

Agent response to code in: N/A

Her responses triggered an additional field: Reason for discrepancy _.

She stared at the blinking cursor, at the blank space waiting for her response, and realized that she had no idea what to write. The only other time she'd encountered this field before had been when one of the agents had been too severely injured to leave the safe house or to answer the phone. But it was highly unlikely that Jason had been hurt. The plan she'd carefully crafted had put him in Singapore nine days before his target was scheduled to arrive. He should have been settling into his role as a businessman in town for an important conference, doing a bit of 'sightseeing' while setting up the recording equipment they'd need, and getting acclimated to a city he'd never been to before; nothing dangerous.

There was nothing that could account for the fact that he hadn't checked in; that he was simply... missing.

Nothing, except the heart-stopping realization that he had lied to her and run from Treadstone, run from her.

She didn't know how long she sat there as the waves of realization washed over her repeatedly. He had lied to her. He had broken his promise. He had left her.

She jumped noticeably when Conklin opened her door even though he opened it quietly. She had just enough time to register the displeasure displayed clearly on his face before her desk phone rang. She looked from it to him and he said "Don't answer that, he wouldn't call you on your office phone." He spoke clearly but his voice was unusually quiet and restrained considering how upset he obviously was. She made no move to pick up the phone but his statement made absolutely no sense to her. She waited, expecting him to explain.

"We already have Desh." Whatever Nicky had expected Conklin to say, this wasn't it.

She blinked at him. "Sir?"

He didn't answer her and continued. "We expect that Bourne will make contact soon and when he does, it'll most likely be with you. I want you to be ready when he does. It is absolutely imperative that you bring him in but we don't think that it's... advisable... at this time... to tell him he's being sent for retraining."

"What?" her whispered question was so quiet that she didn't think he even heard her he certainly didn't react like he had.

"You're going to need to meet him in a neutral location... we'll hit him with a tranquilizer. I want you to bring in the Professor on this one." He stopped, obviously expecting her to jump to action and when she just sat there, his previous calm demeanor evaporated. "NOW, Parsons. Get me a location and call him in. Bourne could make contact at any time and we need to be READY, god dammit."

The phone on her desk had finally stopped ringing. She noted the silence in the back of her mind as she tried desperately to process what Conklin was saying. One nightmare had been replaced with another, which was somehow even worse. Somewhere, in her mind, she realized that he was expecting her to do something but she couldn't for the life of her seem to understand what he was asking and she certainly wasn't capable of action.

It finally seemed to click with Conklin that Nicky wasn't tracking. "What the hell's wrong with you? Didn't anybody tell you what happened?" He exhaled in exasperation as he realized that she had no clue what he was talking about and finally explained. "Bourne's gone off the deep end. He attacked Desh last night... damn near killed him. And then he called his psychiatrist and started babbling some nonsense about Desh being an FBI agent and told the shrink to come and get him. Then he disappeared."

Nicky nodded. She understood.

Jason wasn't leaving her. He had intentionally created a situation that would result in both him and Desh being sent for retraining. When they came back to her in six months, neither would have any memory of her at all. They'd be the cold, killing-machines that she'd first encountered when she began working for Treadstone two years ago.

And there was nothing she could do to stop it.

"He won't contact me." She knew he wasn't going to let her see him again until it was over. He'd already said goodbye and he wasn't going to give her another chance to block him. She knew that she needed a plausible reason for saying this to Conklin, though so she added "He must think I'm compromised or that I can't be trusted for some reason. Otherwise, he'd have contacted me in the first place instead of his psychiatrist."

Conklin's cell phone rang as she finished her explanation and, although it wasn't unexpected, her heart crumbled at the relieved expression on his face when he hung up and told her "We've got him. He went straight to the facility and turned himself in."

Before he left Conklin demanded that Nicky prepare a full report of both agents' files. He was convinced that there had been some sort of indication that Bourne was headed toward a psychotic break and evidently wanted to find someone to blame for missing it. It didn't seem to be her, though. He treated her just as he always did, and ignored her except to demand that she handle whatever problem he threw her way. Anyone else would have noticed the grief that was etched into her face but he didn't bother to even look at her.

* * *

She had six long months to go over everything that had happened, to prepare herself to see him again, to wonder what it would be like when she did. She eventually recognized that he hadn't been lying to her when he said he couldn't stay away from her and that she'd failed to realize that he had been too determined to leave her to let that stop him. She'd missed the obvious answer. He had out-thought her, as usual.

And his plan had worked perfectly. He had removed all threats to her. He had removed the physical threat that he himself represented by wiping his own memory of them. He had removed the ever-present threat of discovery by ending their relationship. He had even removed the threat that he believed Desh represented to her as well as the too-close-for-comfort relationship that Desh had developed with Nicky when he'd dragged him into things by attacking him. He'd left her completely alone but he hadn't gone any where.

She was safe. She'd never have to run from Treadstone, never have to worry about him accidentally attacking her, never have to worry about Desh using his information against her.

She was safe but her world had been destroyed. Now she worried about how Jason was dealing with the training, what they were doing to him in that terrible place. She ached for him. She grieved for _them._ She hated herself for failing to protect him. That was her job, _protecting him,_ and she'd failed. She was angry at him; even hated him at times. She hated herself for not following through on her threat of suicide. And she hated him for knowing, even when she hadn't, that she would never be able to do it.

She went to work every day for those six months and she still did her job, was still as efficient as ever, but she held herself back from the agents now, kept her distance. They noticed. She no longer smiled at them. She no longer talked to them as she used to, as if they were actual _people._ Birthday's went unremarked. She didn't touch them anymore.

They worried about her, as they waited for the smile that never came, as their birthdays slipped quietly past, as they left her office without her light touch to escort them out. They worried about her, but none of them ever broached the subject with her and slowly, they all adjusted to the new, darker, world in which they lived without the small things that Nicky did to bring a little light to their dark lives.

She never adjusted to her life without Jason.

* * *

**Alright, that's the end. Thank you for reading the longest (by far) story I ever wrote and I sincerely hope you liked it (even though it has such a sad ending). I considered adding a chapter about when Jason comes back- without remembering her- and eventually gets sent on to the Wombosi mission and totally loses everything- a side effect of the 'retraining' he'd gone through but when I typed that last sentence, I felt like it was the end of the story. **

**Side note: I titled this story "small things" and I incorporated that phrase into every chapter at least once. Did you notice? Did it feel forced? Reviews would be lovely.**


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